Going to Cornwall was a bit like going to Middle Earth and visiting the hobbits- very pretty, green countryside and lots of small, slightly inbred, sunburnt locals with strange sounding accents (but alas, no hairy feet). It didn't feel like we were still in England as everything was 'Cornish', not English; Cornish clotted cream (devine, as thick as cheese and almost all fat), Cornish pasties (ditto fat content but very nice), Cornish cream teas (scones with more fantastic cream and Cornish jam- sublime), Cornish ales, Cornish fish, Cornish bus service (cheap and eficient).....you get the idea. The local accent was very country-sounding, like the cast from the 'Vicar of Dibley' crossed with a bit of Welsh. Sidekick and I tried imitating it on the bus which drew some odd looks.
We spent three nights in Penzance (with the pirates) in a nice pub right on the harbour, which was apparently owned by an L. Rowe (a long distant relative?). A full english breakfast was served in our room every morning which we began by eating enthusiastically, until the sight of eggs, beans and bacon became too much, even for sidekick.
We did the usual touristy stuff- Land's End, St Ives and found that nearly every other family of four with screaming kids was also doing the same. Both places were packed with tourists, a strangely comforting sight that even at the end of the world (or Britain), there is an icecream and souvenir shop.
The highlight of the trip was taking a sightseeing bus around the coastline between Land's End and St Ives. We were atop an open double-decker bus as it was a sunny day, but as the bus picked up speed, it joined forces with the wind and we were soon buffeted around the top of the bus. Sidekick took drastic measures and drew his jacket hood over his cap and then tightened the drawstring around his face, ending up with a type of face-as-squashed-bum look (photo to come). Instead of going downstairs, sidekick and I, as well as a few other diehard tourists, stayed on top in the gale-force winds, and were eventually rewarded with some lovely sights of west Cornwall; sandy beaches, sheer rock clifffaces, green fields dotted with black and white cows (the ones that produce all that milk for the Cornish clotted cream). We just couldn't move our fingers and other limbs afterwards.
We packed so much into our four days away that we only made the train back to London with 30 seconds to spare (courtesy of a last-minute dash to a pirate shop to buy important pirate souvenirs). Travelling by train for five hours was not nearly as arduous as it sounds, mainly due to the invention of the buffet car. We also happened to be sitting in the designated 'quiet carriage', a fantastic English invention where no mobile phones are allowed in the said 'quiet carriages'. It didn't however, extend to loud toddlers or slightly barmy/chatty older ladies, two of which sat behind us the whole way and kept up a steady stream of conversation about money, men, retiring, money, men- until they got off at Reading. Now if we could only get the train people to make separate carriages for 'loud, annoying people'.......
